


Dark Fandom/OTP Challenge - DalKenzie Edition

by DarchangelSkye



Category: American Idol RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 30 Day Dark Fandom Challenge, Afterlife, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Corpse Bride (2005) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anonymous Sex, Biting, Bittersweet, Blindfolds, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Caretaking, Character Death, Class Issues, Clubbing, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dacryphilia, Darkness, Difficult Decisions, Dirty Talk, Dreams vs. Reality, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angels, Fear, Ficlet Collection, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Gen, Handcuffs, Haunting, Hospitals, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Inspired by Music, Intimacy, Isolation, Jealousy, Loneliness, M/M, Magic, Masks, Memories, Mild Knifeplay, Mirrors, Narcissism, Nightmares, Obsession, Overdosing, Painplay, Piano, Possessive Behavior, Possibly Unrequited Love, Restraints, Rituals, Romeo and Juliet References, Rough Sex, Second Chances, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Roleplay, Slenderverse, Southern Gothic elements, Stalking, Suicide, Tears, Theatre, Wax Play, Wingfic, Wordcount: 5.000-15.000, cameos from other Idols - Freeform, dubious consent in roleplay context, fake weapons, implied brainwashing, last kiss of sorts, partially cross-posted on Wattpad, psychological domination, threats of violence in roleplay context, vampire foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 13,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tackling <a href="http://actualodinson.tumblr.com/post/64547472272/30-day-dark-fandom-otp-writing-challenge">actualodinson</a>'s Dark Fandom Challenge and dropping these pure and precious smol beans into it because I Am Evil.<br/><i></i><br/><span class="u">self-harm reference tag only applies to Chapters 11 and 30.</span><br/><span class="u">death and suicide tags only apply to Chapter 22.</span><br/><span class="u">drug use tag only applies to Chapter 25.</span><br/><span class="u">all sexual content is consensual.</span><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anonymity during sex

It drives him crazy that he just wants to touch the guy's _hair_.

It's not like MacKenzie's never seen hair so bleach-blond it's almost white, but the way it glows on top of everything- sun-kissed skin with a smattering of freckles, eyes that can't decide whether they're blue or green, plump lips that have gone from light to deep pink with all their kissing and moaning, and especially that damn mask blocking half his face. Black and trimmed with roses, MacKenzie's never seen a mask like that before on a guy, but it was so beautiful he just had to dance with this mysterious young man.

And of course dancing leads to kissing, kissing leads to touching, and touching leads to being fucked in the cloakroom by this mysterious young man while his wrists are pinned down so he can't touch any of that glowing hair.

"Can't trust you not to take my mask off," he'd rasped, nine of the barely two dozen words he's said this evening, and none of those his name.

The music continues outside, sweeping and elegant, while MacKenzie furiously rolls his hips and curls his fingers that just ache for that beautiful mess of hair.


	2. Urban legends/creepypastas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry Dalton bb this is what happens when you wear a Slendy symbol in an old IM5 vid mwahaha

_It creeps._

No matter how slow and quiet Dalton tries to keep his footsteps, they still rustle the leaves and grit on the ground and sound magnified in his ears. His rattling breathing doesn't help matters either.

His thumb caresses the flashlight button, but he doesn't want to provide a beacon for... _it_. He has to rely on touch to get out of here, a palm flat against some cold and dirty brick wall.

His blood feels like ice water, and he can't stop the chattering in his teeth when he sees the slim and flickering shadow.

Damn thing _creeps_.

The first thud is not too far off in the distance.


	3. Vampire AU

The girl is always the same- plain, unassuming, affectionate yet innocent. It makes luring them in easier with promises of a scintillating night with one of the hottest duos around. And they fall for it every single time.

Right now this one's perched on the edge of the hotel bed, shirt half-off and hair still tied up to expose the delicate lines of her upper body, especially her neck. Her face is flushed in the perfect redness of anticipation as she watches MacKenzie pour the wine glass. Dalton can't stop licking his lips, but the other man has to flash the warning signal with his eyes of _Not yet_ that thankfully she can't pick up.

"Ohh my god, I still can't believe I'm actually in here!" the girl moans in pleasure even if nothing's been done yet. "I mean, like, the mags are always saying you two are gay 'cause you're never seen in public with women and there's never any groupie stories but you're sooo hot I mean there's gotta be something-" She giggles like she's intoxicated already. "Ohmigod, I talk too much!"

Dalton and MacKenzie smirk at each other and take seats on either side of her. "Trust me, babe, we know how to show a woman the time of her life," Dalton purrs and leans close, resisting the urge to take in her scent just yet. MacKenzie sets the wine glass in her hands, and she doesn't even think to swirl the dark red liquid around before taking a heady sip.

Her smile is lazy and eyes droopy, the sedative quickly taking its effect. She doesn't even take notice of MacKenzie idly stroking up and down her leg while she says, "Th'way you two sing...just takes my breath away."

Chuckle. "Thanks, honey." MacKenzie strokes her skin until her eyes fully close and head lolls back, and he takes the wine glass before it can be dropped. "You first," he addresses Dalton.

"Told you I've been starving," Dalton mutters and he burrows his nose in the girl's neck like he's been wanting all evening, breathing in the heady aroma the average person certainly can't smell but he and MacKenzie can. If it was possible his face would flush as well; instead his eyes flash their true silver color and fangs extend to make the vital cut.

***

The girls are always left within distance of a hospital. Sometimes they survive and sometimes they don't, that's not for Dalton or MacKenzie to concern themselves with. Either way, they won't remember a thing.

In a protective shadow blocks away, MacKenzie embraces his lover who's still licking the corner of his mouth as if a drop of precious elixir is caught there. "Have I told you I love watching you satisfy yourself?"

"Only every time." Dalton presses his body close, the whisper of his leather jacket soft against the other creature's t-shirt. "I prefer showing _you_ the good time anyway."

MacKenzie's smile glows under the moonlight as always. "No time like now, my love." Lips meet in a copper-tinged kiss, and even if hearts can't race other primal urges still stir.


	4. Obsession

MacKenzie almost felt himself asleep in his dressing room chair- either the show had gone on incredibly long or that was all the stress catching up with him- when there was a flurry of knocks outside. "Hrrm?" He sat up completely and adjusted his glasses. 

"Present delivery, Mr. Bourg."

 _Mister_ , when the guy sounded probably his age. MacKenzie got up on careful feet and looked through the peephole to see one of the backstage people who had also been milling about beforehand, some smiling bleach-blond fella. No danger there. MacKenzie opened the door to let him in. 

Crew pass flapping with every step, the guy bounded in with a box overflowing with the typical pile of fan gifts, including those damn bouquets. "Man, you sure do get a lot of roses."

Mack smiled in resignation and ran a hand over his hair. "Well, it is my signature song."

"Yeah. You didn't play it til really late in the set list, though," the guy said as he sat up a teddy bear threatening to topple out of the box.

"Some nights I just don't play it at all..." And some people were really upset about that, he mused on but said nothing. Only a few in the inner management circle knew about the situation at this point so as not to stir up a big media ire and possibly piss off the loon (loons?) into doing something dangerous. Why would a random crew guy want to hear him spill his guts about an obsessed fan anyway?

The guy's smile disappeared for a flash but came back when it appeared the box was tidied. "Well, that looks like everything. Have a good night!" He flashed a peace sign and bounded out, crew pass flapping again.

"Thanks..." MacKenzie let his gaze linger for a moment before the guy shut the door behind him. Kinda spacey, but decent eye candy at least.

With a sigh he began sorting through the array of flowers and plushies (keeping an eye out for notes). He wished his fans wouldn't spend their money like this; most of the stuff ended up going to the local hospital on his way out. But he supposed it was the thought that counted, even if some thought too much.

Lying under the teddy bear the guy had straightened up was what MacKenzie thought a rose gone loose from a bouquet, but upon touching it he saw it was carved from wood. "Well, least that's original," he said out loud as he twirled it about in his fingers. And it was painted realistically, a near-black bottom sweeping up into maroon petals.

He was so distracted by the craftsmanship it took him a minute to notice the little paper that'd been sitting with it.

A sickening sensation hit his stomach and throat as he picked up the note even if common sense screamed not to.

_My darling MacKenzie,_   
_I was so worried they weren't going to let you sing our song tonight. I would have lost my mind if I thought they were still keeping you from me. But we know better than that, don't we? We're made for each other, my love. It won't be long now._   
_You're even more beautiful up close._

MacKenzie dropped the paper with a huff. Typical delusional rubbish-

_You didn't play it til really late in the set list, though._

_You're even more beautiful up close._

"Oh, shit," he paled over in sudden realization.


	5. Restraints during sex

Dalton looks so beautiful when he writhes his arms around and flexes his fingers within the cuffs. Not that he's trying to escape; he'd be saying the magic word if that was the case. It's just part of the show he puts on for MacKenzie, along with how he pushes his hips outwards and lazily blinks his eyes and makes his lips kiss the air.

MacKenzie slides his hands down Dalton's arms to touch the bound wrists behind his back. The skin is tight and slightly pink from pressure. "Are you feeling that, babe?" he murmurs lowly.

Dalton nods, his face flushed just as pink. "All...yours..."

"That's right." MacKenzie leans back against the headboard and pulls his lover into his lap.

"Ohh-" Without his hands, Dalton has to hover his hips before he can sink down and make delicious noises of satisfaction. Shoulders roll and eyes flutter as he smoothly glides up and down.

MacKenzie grips the bound wrists in pure possession and he suckles a hickey-deep kiss under Dalton's jawline. All his. _All his._


	6. Domination (psychlogical)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happens when I suddenly have [cultverse](http://cultverse.livejournal.com) nostalgia, idk.

MacKenzie's more than the perfect compliment to him, the singer-songwriter versus the hard rocker. He's the perfect foil, the perfect innocent cover to his plans, and the perfect hook to draw in the crowd he wouldn't be able to get otherwise. Who would expect anything insidious behind that bright smile and those soft eyes?

Right now Dalton carefully strokes his hair like he would to a lover while the young man slowly plays the new chord progression, undistracted by the touches. Good. He's learning well. The notes gracefully float in rhythm up to the ceiling and soon they'll be in everyone's ears and minds.

MacKenzie puts down the guitar to pick up a water bottle, and of course Dalton allows him that. You can't be any use if you don't take care of yourself.

He whispers the words he knows MacKenzie wants to hear in just the right cadence, a rhythm to worm its way into his brain and have a hard time escaping but stay pulsing under the surface. How he's going to be such a big help to Dalton in reaching all those kids, how he perfectly understands what his message is about and how he embodies it so well, losing and saving yourself in art and the glory of music. How he's beautiful and clever and oh-so-perfect.

And of course MacKenzie believes every word with his nodding and that bright smile.


	7. Forbidden relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently what happens when you mishmash [biking!MacKenzie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieL7pQU-FYc) \+ [flower child!Dalton](https://twitter.com/daltonhttp/status/753558061197975552) \+ [Street Love](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/294874.Street_Love?ac=1&from_search=true) \+ [this gifset](http://bebe-benzenheimer.tumblr.com/post/145585997595/dalkenzie-au-stay-away-from-him-mackenzie) (hopefully you can still see that and Tumblr hasn't gone belly up..)

Heat, wind, and dust whipped around MacKenzie the faster his bike sped down the road that occasionally bumped underneath. He was in his element with the engine roaring in his ears, the sun beating down, and the boy clinging around his waist. His Dalton. Such a dangerous love for a soft and tender flower child. But danger kept the blood pumping in his veins. 

He soon killed the engine after doing an impressive spin in the dust and pulled off his helmet. He squinted at the oppressive sun- hell, felt like everyone wanted to oppress them- but this was as far out as they could safely get. "Wanna set up, babe?"

"Kay," Dalton was quiet as always. He hopped off the bike to retrieve the satchel and MacKenzie silently watched him set up their temporary camp, their private hideaway. 

Dalton was more beautiful than all that money in the world he had but didn't care about. Watching him move was like being caught in a whirl of translucent pink gauze with a smile like porcelain lit from within. He saw beauty everywhere and his heart was so big to contain all that love. MacKenzie's family sneered at the audacity of such a "fancy sissy boy", never mind that their own son was enthralled with those sea-green eyes and gentle hands.

And of course Dalton's family would turn up their noses at the merest whiff of dirt and leather and chrome. The real world, the world on the other side of town that had been all MacKenzie ever knew, was not good enough for them. Never mind that _their_ son gave his realest of smiles whenever Mack held his hand.

Dalton now lay on the worn checkered blanket and MacKenzie kicked off his boots to fill the empty space and bask in his boy's glow. The wooden beaded necklace he'd given Dalton earlier still nestled against lightly-tanned skin. The boy didn't care it had come from a dollar store, it was already more precious to him than rubies as it was presented as an act of true love.

"It's nice out here," Dalton said and traced along the stitches in Mack's jacket.

"Our own place," MacKenzie kissed his forehead. Oh how he would fight for this little one.

"They're gonna kill us."

 _Then we'll die together,_ Mack thought but didn't say. "Not us. Our hearts are our shields and yours is the strongest." He never thought he could ever touch upon a new poetic language to express all the wonderful feelings inside him of discovering love for the first time, but that was Dalton's priceless magic that knew no class line.


	8. Inspired by classic horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes Phantom of the Opera definitely counts as classic horror :p

The theater was darkened and empty, quiet save for MacKenzie's echoing footsteps as he slowly walked to the front of the stage. That stage was scuffed by marks of the hundreds, no, thousands of pairs of shoes of hopefuls who had trod it before, and the knowledge his were among the last to mark it was as eerie as every other sensation he got out here.

He shielded his eyes, even if there was barely any light here, and gazed towards the balcony that seemed to stretch on forever. People would think he was crazy if he said anything- hell, he already figured he was crazy himself- but MacKenzie couldn't shake the feeling of a lingering presence in that balcony. Of course that feeling only ever happened when it was just him on the stage, practicing his music for that week and doing his damnedest not to crack under all the pressure.

That had to be all it was, just pressure. There was a lot of stress riding on everyone here.

Though MacKenzie was certain he was the only one to hear those three words, a voice young like his but somehow shrouded in world-weariness and mystery.

_"Sing for me..."_


	9. Nightmares

Everything was too white in here, too bright, too sterile. His eyes hurt. Come to think it, so did his head, his chest, his arms... Dalton sat up a little too quickly and that pain especially flared in his arms.

White sheets, white walls...he sighed in utter resignation and rest his head on his hands. Sill here. When he'd never wanted to be here again.

"Dalton?"

Dalton snapped his head up, and his eyes briefly blurred in utter relief before focusing again to completely see MacKenzie standing by the bed. He must have practically flown in with how quiet he'd been, but Dalton didn't care.

"Mack, thank christ! C'mon, let's sign me outta here so we can go home."

MacKenzie crossed his arms and his expression went eerily blank. "'We'? What are you talking about?"

Dalton felt the blood rush from his face until he could've blended in with the rest of the room. "Did...didn't you come here to get me?"

MacKenzie snorted. "Uh, _no_. Why would I be bringing a lunatic home with me? You're a mess, Dalton."

In defiance of all logic, the air around MacKenzie seemed to haze until it seeped into the outline of his hair, then his folded arms, then Dalton could start seeing the wall behind him right through his form and scrambled forward in shock, not caring about the tugging sensation in an arm.

"So pathetic."

"Mack, please, no, don't leave me here, please-"

But all the begging was for nothing as MacKenzie faded away like a ghost and Dalton was left grasping at air, hot tears blinding his vision like acid.

***

Dalton clutched his chest as his eyes flew open with a gasp. The surroundings were still blurry, and for a horrifying moment he thought he was still in that all-white hell. Sobs wracked his body and immediately he felt two familiar arms around him.

"Dalton? Dalt, babe, relax, it's OK, shh..."

MacKenzie. He was still here, he wasn't a mirage- "Oh god Mack," came out in one breath and he collapsed against his boyfriend's shoulder, still sobbing. He tried to concentrate on the gentle embrace, but the harsh words echoed. _So pathetic._

"The hospital dream?" MacKenzie eventually asked, rubbing up and down the young man's back.

Dalton sniffed deeply and rubbed his eyes to not get a mess on his boyfriend's pajamas. "You l-left me there...said I was a lunatic-" then came a fresh round of crying and his chest hurt again.

"Oh, Dalton..." MacKenzie's large and warm hands cupped his face so they could be eye to eye, and he barely made out the sweet face he loved that was no doubt so tired and felt guilty for waking him up. "Remember what I told you the first time you had that dream?"

He sniffed and tried to remember how to breathe. "That you w-wouldn't dump me if I ever had to be hospitalized again."

"That's right, and it's still true." Mack leaned close to kiss Dalton's forehead, lips a much more comforting warmth than the tears. "You mean too much to me to throw away, baby. I love you just as much when you're sad as when you're happy."

Dalton bit his lip and curled close for a hug he hoped he was still worthy of. "I l-love you, too..."

MacKenzie continued to let his hands be soothing as the cries took their time to subside. The return to a peaceful sleep would be a long time coming.


	10. Pain as erotic element

There was no hiding it, MacKenzie was definitely surprised when Dalton fessed to him that he enjoyed giving and receiving a little pain during sex- and he didn't just mean a playful spanking.

"Like-" the young man continually ran his hands over his hair, actions likely matching racing thoughts. "I gotta deal with all the shit my brain puts me through that there's no way in hell I want- I just need that time to finally be in control of my pain and remind my system whose in charge." He looked to MacKenzie with wide eyes. "Does that make sense or did I just gross you out?"

Even if Mack felt his own eyes were magnified owl-wide under his glasses, he still quickly shook his head. "N-no, I guess that makes sense." He loved his Dalton even through every struggle. Whatever helped him to feel better... "Maybe you could show me?" came out in a cautious whisper then.

Which was how right now MacKenzie found himself with his hands to the wall, the room half-darkened, and thrills of anticipation tingling over his bare skin. Dalton was softly panting behind him while prepping himself (thank goodness his definition of pain didn't include a lack of lube), breath tickling the back of his neck. Finally he heard a "Ready?" He nodded and Dalton alighted hands on hips, nothing digging in just yet, only an anchor. They had trust going on, he could do this.

"Mmm..." Soon the slow and smooth entrance began, and MacKenzie rocked his hips side to side to take in as much of his lover as possible. He loved fitting just right with Dalton like they'd been made for each other, their moans and sighs weaving together in the sweetest harmony.

"Okay..." Dalton's whisper caressed his skin, and that's when the fingernails began curling into MacKenzie's hips.

Mack filtered a hiss through his teeth and kept his eyes shut when the sharp sensation started digging in. He'd had animals scratch him before, and people grab his arm with their fingertips tight when they really shouldn't, and those were annoying as hell, but this...

"How is it?" Dalton asked with a smooth roll of his hips.

MacKenzie sighed at the friction and looked over his shoulder with a sly grin. "Not bad." Play a little coy first, see how far he could take this...

Fortunately Dalton could see the playfulness and matched that with a smile of his own. "I knew it," he murmured and leaned his face close. MacKenzie puckered up for a kiss, but instead cried out with a full-body tremor when Dalton's teeth sank right into his shoulder.

A low growl rumbled in the young man's throat as his teeth worried back and forth over the part of skin they'd clamped on, not breaking it but leaving deep red marks to last for a while and something MacKenzie was definitely feeling right now. It was sharp and intense and Dalton's own brand of magic, and he was instantly bewitched.

"That 'not bad'?" Dalton whispered after breaking the bite and soothing his tongue over the marks.

Ooh, so nice. "Yeah," MacKenzie whispered and let his head hang low. "How do they look? The marks?" he managed.

"Beautiful as you." Dalton started moving his fingers up Mack's sides which meant scratching nails.

"Ohshit-" MacKenzie curled his fingers against the wall and felt his legs tremble as the sting slowly dragged upwards. The sensation wasn't just on the surface but pooling in the pit of his stomach. This was a whole different kind of animal, the animal inside Dalton that'd been itching to come out and was now here and...glorious. An animal made of the fire licking over his skin. Fuck, he could definitely like Dalton being in charge.


	11. Fallen angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I totally took inspiration from the [angel!Dalton](https://twitter.com/DaltonGIFS/status/760326186283241472) pics, but seeing as this is the _dark_ challenge...

The official story for why the table had been added to meet-and-greets was a few overzealous fans- names weren't going to be named but they knew who they were- had gotten too hands-on and Dalton and his family were concerned for his safety. Everyone took it to mean lovestruck fangirls grabbing his ass and left it at that. 

Not that those incidents hadn't happened, but what drove Dalton to the breaking point was something else altogether.

The front of his neck would sting with phantom pressure when he remembered it, which was near all the damn time with how close a call it had been. The back of his collar had been gripped, presumably to try ripping off his shirt since other than some swimming pictures from the IM5 days a shirtless Dalton sighting was like a unicorn. He'd gasped with feeling like he was choking, and the girl had called out "What _is_ that?!" before security hustled her away.

And he fell to his knees coughing in a panic attack, his shoulder blades thrumming in muted pain.

_He'd almost been found out. He'd almost been found out._

Fortunately it seemed like security had given the girl a stern warning, as she said nothing about the incident. Dalton had obsessively scoured Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr, even freakin' IdolForums for a week to see if she'd spilled the story, but not a word.

He'd say thank god, but he knew better than that.

Many nights Dalton lay awake on his stomach, breath slightly muffled by the pillow but still ragged in his ears, anything he could do to mute the silvery shimmer behind him as the damn things tried taking off for impossible flight. Up until recently he'd gotten better in not having them pop up randomly, but the new pile of stresses and responsibilities on his life were making it hard, beyond hard.

It was bad enough some idiots thought he was a freak with being bipolar, he didn't need to be seen as a literal freak with wings on top of it. Life wouldn't be a soppy supernatural romance, it'd be a horror movie with a quick and painful ending he didn't want to stick around for. Until he could control them for good, it was best to keep his distance. 

No amount of ramming his shoulder blades into walls did it, and when scissors and razor blades got hidden Dalton couldn't try anything drastic, not ever again. 

He never remembered if he'd fallen in the first place. If he had, it must have hurt a hell of a lot less than this.


	12. Southern Gothic/hauntings

MacKenzie didn't want to believe in such superstitions. Tales about voodoo and curses and especially ghosts were just worn-out stereotypes, and if he had a dollar for every time he'd heard about them he wouldn't have to worry about anything again.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case.

Even with living in the nicer area of town, MacKenzie couldn't stay there forever, which meant sooner or later being exposed to the parts of Louisiana talked about in hushed whispers after midnight. The abandoned homes, the derelict buildings, the odd patches of land with only a few broken stones left over to show they'd once been fully functioning cemeteries. Hell, he'd even gone to the bayou and seen fireflies flutter about like misplaced stars.

MacKenzie had hard of people, the so-called sensitives, who got heavy sensations in their heads or hearts in places where spirits could be lurking. He wanted to write those stories off as well, attribute the strange and sickly feeling in his chest to some sort of contagious psychosis, pretend the musty smells and cold air and lack of light didn't affect him at all.

But it was a bit hard to write off when those sickly feelings kept lingering.


	13. Dirty talk

Dalton had his legs wrapped around MacKenzie's hips, not that the young man was going anywhere; he was already inside and thrusting like it was his duty and Dalton loved it. He moaned in rhythm to every smack of skin on skin and danced his fingers up and down his lover's back muscles. "So good, baby," he whispered in MacKenzie's ear.

Mack grinned and gave Dalton's jawline a gentle nibble. "I know you can do better than that," was his lilting tease.

Dalton's face reddened because he knew exactly what that meant; he wanted the special banter that left the both of them helpless with lust. He nodded and whispered again. "So good...to me," a particularly deep thrust made him moan in the middle. "It's like I can feel you all the way up-" he gripped the back of MacKenzie's hair for a deep kiss.

A laugh vibrated along his lips and when the kiss broke MacKenzie murmured, "Is that your way of saying I'm big, Dalton?"

Dalton nodded meekly, playing along as always. When Mack's voice rasped like that he sounded so much more in control and it was exhilarating.

"Is that your way of saying you love how I hit your spot every time and it drives you crazy?"

Dalton whimpered in response and pressed another deep and wet kiss while rolling his hips in rhythm. God, the way they fit just right was beautiful.

When he had to break for air, he anchored his hands to MacKenzie's shoulders and gazed in those lovely eyes that always seemed a little darker when they played like this. "Oh, god..."

"What are you seeing, babe?" MacKenzie slowed down his thrusts so Dalton could answer more coherently and gave his hair a tender grip.

Dalton swallowed and kept his gaze like his life depended on it. "The look that tells me it's all mine even while you're using me..."

"That's right," MacKenzie moved his kisses to the crook of Dalton's neck and slid a hand between their bodies. "And because you were right, you get to come again and again..."

Dalton gasped and a breathy "ohfuckrightthere" tumbled from his lips as he felt the familiar grip of his lover's fingers around his cock. "Hot-"

"Uh huh." MacKenzie started a back and forth alternating of pumping his hips and his hand, each move making Dalton stutter his breaths at the friction. "Y'gonna be all messy and paint my canvas, baby? You have the prettiest gloss...so warm and shiny..."

Dalton nodded in pleasured delirium and extended his legs in a stretch as shivers coursed all over. For all the exotic words he loved lavishing upon MacKenzie, there were moments like this when the loving was so good no words could leave him even with his mouth curled in the sweetest o-shape. But Mack always had plenty to tease and praise him with.


	14. Negative emotion- jealousy

MacKenzie considered himself a calm and even-tempered guy; it didn't do anyone any good to stress out and lose control. But everyone had their limits, and right now his limit was being pushed by the sight of Dalton- _his_ Dalton- being fawned and fettered over.

Deep down he knew he couldn't really blame those people- Dalton was beautiful, just made to be touched and kissed and cuddled and have sweet nothings whispered to. But he also knew he should be the only one with that privilege.

Right now some girl had her hand on Dalton's shoulder while leaning in and saying something MacKenzie couldn't make out, but definitely had to be suggestive as the young man immediately laughed with color touching his cheeks. At least for his credit he waved the girl off- _But why did he let her get close in the first place?_ MacKenzie curled his fingers tight around his drink bottle, grateful it was plastic and not glass to have it break in his hand. The heat in his own face had nothing to do with the pleasure of being flirted with and everything to do with unbridled possessiveness.

Dalton signed a poster for another girl and then a guy had to come over, thin and brunet like MacKenzie but his hair styled sleeker and his outfit looking like he just leapt off somebody's aesthetic blog. A couple more indiscernible words were exchanged and arms went around each other's shoulders in a hug, the kind of hug MacKenzie was supposed to be on the receiving end of.

When that rough yet sweet laugh rang out again, MacKenzie felt his grip tighten more around the bottle to have it crumple in his grasp.


	15. Rough sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> companion to "Negative emotion- jealousy". Ayep.

He didn't know _why_ MacKenzie was so mad about people flirting with him, he couldn't help it he was that popular. But Dalton must have said that with too cocky a grin, because next thing he knew he was pushed up against the wall with fingers digging into his sides. It stung but he loved it, just as much as he loved getting his boyfriend riled up.

The look in MacKenzie's eyes and scowl on his face told Dalton he was about to get the 'punishment' he so rightly deserved for letting all those other peoples' hands on him. Of course deep down they knew it never went any further than that, but once in a while Dalton needed to be 'reminded' of who he really belonged to. "Try me," he gave a final dare with a lick of his lips.

That was enough to get MacKenzie started, who sunk his teeth with just enough pressure on the fleshiest part of the young man's jawline to make him cry out and roll his eyes in pleasure. He doesn't try getting away from the shock of pain, it's exactly what he needed.

" _Mine_ ," MacKenzie snarled through his teeth and grabbed the back of Dalton's hair to keep his head from hitting the wall (at least there was one mercy they showed each other during beautiful torture like this) before furiously slamming their hips together. Despite the tears stinging the corners of his eyes from sensation, Dalton smiled at feeling his boyfriend's perfectly hard body. Of course his favorite part of being jealous was getting to be a total dom later.

He wrapped his arms around MacKenzie's shoulders for nails to mark the back of his neck. "Fuck-" he hissed in exclamation and demand and captured those lovely lips in his teeth to try giving back a little pain of his own.

Prep was quick and sloppy as always when they did this, and it was a struggle for Dalton to not trip over his loose pant legs or beg for mercy from the tight pain inside him. But he supposed that was what he deserved for being so naughty. Red sparks flew behind his shut eyes like fireworks and he blindly groped for a length of MacKenzie's hair to hold onto, feeling all the pain was worth it when he got to hear his lover cry out as well.


	16. Knifeplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the context of the evil characters!AU (criminal activity) prompt. and as per actualondinson's post I am obligated to tell you to Please Don't Try This At Home...

"Got a little something for you, baby."

"You did now?" MacKenzie casually crossed his ankles on the dashboard of Dalton's Escalade. Most people ten years his senior couldn't even afford the monthly payments on a car like this, much less buy one outright. But he knew how to deal and practically had half the city wrapped around his finger to back it up.

"During my run in Houston." Dalton didn't even wait for a traffic light to reach into his leather jacket pocket to pull out the box.

MacKenzie's eyes widened at the Cartier logo and he quickly tore off the lid to reveal a square-faced silver watch with midnight-blue hands and dial. "Holy- Dalton, this isn't even supposed to be out for six months!"

Dalton grinned and ran two slow fingertips down his love's jawline, making for the same shiver as always. "Thought you knew by now I know how to get things. Nothing but the best for my hubby."

Mack smirked as he fastened the watch around his wrist. The first and only time Dalton had tried to tease him by calling him "wifey" earned him a right hook to the face. He may've been small, but he could fight if he had to. He still preferred Dalton fighting for him, though. Something about him being so protective and watching that temper fly... He looped his arms around Dalton's shoulders and wetly kissed his cheek. "Mm, thank you, babe." Dalton said nothing for the remainder of the drive back to their flat.

MacKenzie loved the flat, his true home away from home. Since neither of them cared for jewelry beyond watches and rings, Dalton could sell most of what he 'acquired' to afford a larger space, especially for their closets. And it was worth it; labels that most people their age could only dream about they flashed with pride everywhere they went. The king of the city and his prize toy had to look their best.

Just as Dalton was unlocking the door to let them in, the faint echo of a gunshot sounded from who knew how many blocks away. Even if MacKenzie had heard that sound more times than he could count in the past couple years, he still twitched in nervous reaction and huddled closer to Dalton's side. Dalton tightened the embrace and kissed his temple. "Don't worry, babe, it's not after us. Wanna eat at Hibiscus tonight?"

"We're not gonna be hassled this time?" Mack tilted his head.

Dalton snorted. "You think I'd let some wannabe players touch a hair on my baby's head? Now go get dressed." And with an affectionate smack to the ass MacKenzie was ushered into the flat. His question hadn't been really answered, but he said nothing.

Once he'd finished buttoning up his favorite dress shirt, the distinct whiff of Hugo Boss alerted him to Dalton's presence before the footsteps did. He turned to see his lover had changed into his suit that was all black save for a design like neon paint splatters at the sleeves and hem of the jacket. Dalton leaned against the doorway with his sea-green eyes half-lidded and hint of a smile, and MacKenzie was rarely ever more turned on than in moments like this.

"Mmm..." He stepped close to slide his hands in Dalton's back pockets and give a deep kiss and the move was returned as always. He didn't have to worry about anything or anybody else when he was safe in these arms.

Dalton's tongue played in and around the seam of his lips before he broke from the kiss to breathe. "Y'know I love you, right, Mack? All those other guys and gals trying to sweat on me don't mean a thing."

"'course I do," MacKenzie murmured, just as much as he knew what was coming up.

"And you love me?"

"Uh huh..." And he looked down to see Dalton slip something from his pocket that was definitely not another present.

The switchblade, silver with a black etched rose pattern, was the most elegant of all of Dalton's 'toys'. He hadn't killed anyone with it, but people had received scars stinging enough to remind them who not to mess with. Right now he flicked a button for its blade to appear, and MacKenzie gave the same twitch of reaction he had to the gunshot even if he was also used to this.

"Trust me, babydoll..." Dalton whispered and perched the tip of the blade right on Mack's shoulder. He did it so light and carefully it didn't have any more impact than if it was a butter knife.

MacKenzie took in a deep breath and stayed stock still, watching from the corner of his eye as the blade trickled its way down his arm like a droplet in their shower, causing no damage to cloth or skin. Any shivering from the gentle pressure remained in his mind as he had learned to do. When you were the lover of somebody as important as Dalton Rapattoni, you couldn't show that you were afraid of anything.

Finally the blade stopped just short of his shirt cuff, and Dalton closed and repocketed it with no ceremony. Not a cut or scar just as always. Dalton's preciseness would've been eerie if it didn't make Mack's heart race. He knew it was about trust.

"Beautiful and dangerous, babydoll...just like us."


	17. Sensory deprivation

"OK, Mack, how many fingers am I holding up?"

MacKenzie was faintly aware of a dark shape waving in front of his blindfold, but that was about it. "Probably none because you're cheeky," he grinned. 

"Smart-ass," Dalton said with affection and playfully smacked his hip for a delightful sting. "Y'ready?"

A deep breath and MacKenzie went limp as if melting into the mattress. "Uh huh."

Of course he loved being able to look at Dalton- somebody as beautiful as that, how could you not?- and he was positive his lover liked being able to see him too. But when they played like this, oh god... Mack for sure knew the stories were true about all your other senses getting heightened when one was cut off, especially when Dalton teased along his skin. Anything from kisses and tickles to-

He heard a rough scrape and smelled a faint whiff of smoke. Dalton was bringing out the candle this time. So this meant a few minutes of waiting in delicious agony...he loosely curled and uncurled his fingers and listened to their soft breathing.

"So gorgeous," Dalton's voice floated around him as if disembodied. "All laid out like this, so pretty and willing..."

MacKenzie licked his lips that had suddenly gone dry and whispered, "Just like when I look at you." He was aware of the pressure of his body lying on the mattress, but with no part of himself in his field of vision, he felt barely like an entity.

Dalton made a soft throaty noise that could've been a laugh, and with no word of warning Mack felt the first drips on his stomach, much too heavy to be water.

"Ahh..." MacKenzie felt a similar heat burn on his face and tingle all the way to his outstretched fingers. The first time, yeah, that had definitely stung, but he trusted Dalton with every fiber of his being and now he welcomed this like another delightful little mess the young man loved to leave on his skin. More drips on his stomach now, stopping just short of his waistband.

"Oh my god, Mack, your lines," Dalton whispered in the sweetest awe and began using his fingertips as a paintbrush in the wax. If Mack concentrated hard enough he could discern what his lover was drawing, as he'd often made the same shapes himself. Patterns, swirls, words of love and lust. Drip, drip, fresher wax dropping closer to his chest now, more shapes including an elaborate heart. MacKenzie arched his hips in pleasure when he knew nothing could trickle up to damage his collarbone or neck skin. Dalton said nothing as he continued to trace.

"Mmf-" MacKenzie bit his lower lip at a particularly heavy splash of wax. Nothing but feeling. "Ungh, shit, Dalton-"

"Hmm?" Dalton paused his fingers, and for a moment the loss of touch hurt most of all. "You alright?"

He nodded and parted his lips for a slow breath to pass through. "...perfect."

Another dark shape passed in front of the blindfold, leaning in closer until he felt those sweet lips capturing his.


	18. Inspired by modern horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I am totally counting The Corpse Bride ([especially the piano scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaMcImrNnOQ)) as modern horror and y'all can't stop me :p

So pale, his fingers were- they could have blended in with the ivory and the keys would have appeared to move of their own accord. But of course MacKenzie knew that wasn't the case. He silently watched Dalton continue to play the melody, low and sweet and mournful. 

MacKenzie sighed inaudibly. Deep down he knew he couldn't blame the young man (felt so disrespectful to refer to him any other way) for being as upset as he was, but couldn't Dalton face his own inner truth as well, that there was no logical way for them to be together? 

He carefully took the unoccupied space on the piano bench. The layer of atmosphere around Dalton was cooled as usual, but not the oppressive dead of winter cold. It was the sensation after the sun had been beating down hard for endless days finally punctuated by a misting rainfall. The cold of relief to provide shelter from reality. 

MacKenzie laid a hand on the empty keys, two notes floating up from the pressure. They may have been running counter to Dalton's melody, who knows. He didn't think he knew much of anything anymore. 

Dalton paused in his playing and reached a hand over. MacKenzie tried concentrating on the threadbare sleeve cuff as the young man wordlessly adjusted his fingers instead of on the marble-like touch of skin.

Tried. 

The hand was drawn away and he pressed on the keys again, something much more musically coherent coming out.

"You're learning," Dalton said simply and went back to playing his bittersweet song.


	19. Negative emotion- missing someone

If anyone else was on the beach now, they'd see a lone soul sitting close to the shore with feet in the water, barely reacting to the waves lapping back and forth or the cool breeze that would be biting in a few minutes. But there was nobody else. Just Dalton alone and lost in his own thoughts.

His fingers idly twirled patterns in the sand as he looked off into the distance. He wanted to pretend if he looked hard enough he could see to the other side of the world where his lover was, but that was only wishful thinking.

Dalton pulled his knees closer to his chest and bowed his head. It was a mistake coming here. He had too many good memories with MacKenzie on this beach; he didn't even notice the chilled winds when it was just the two of them. But now they cut through.

He dug the heel of a palm into his eyes to try smearing away the stinging tears. So much for his promise to Mack that he wasn't going to be falling apart during this tour separation. He couldn't help his heart holding as much pain as it did love.


	20. Bad memories

This was not a week anybody had been looking forward to. It wasn't just the pressure of double performances, but the knowledge all of their secrets would be laid bare to the public- Tristan's painful shyness, Trent's loss of a close friend, La'Porsha's devastating relationship, MacKenzie's brush with death, and the demons that still clawed in Dalton's mind.

To be fair to the Idol powers that be, they did make some considerations for their product- pardon, their singers. Counselors were on hand for everyone before and after filming the video packages, but nevertheless the five left those sessions with red eyes or pale countenances or arms around themselves as shields.

In a perfect world one would say they all had a good cry and got the painful memories out of their systems and felt all the more stronger for it, but the world wasn't perfect. Of course they'd worked so diligently to move beyond their hardships through the healing power of music, yet every once in a while the insecurities came screaming through again. Having to re-enact parts of their stories in the packages didn't help either, but disagreeing wasn't really an option.

Of course they knew were was a method to this madness. To show people at home, especially the younger fans, that they weren't alone in their struggles and how music could shine a light through the darkest hours. That still didn't stop the feeling of being lost in a cold fog of a past you just wanted to leave behind for good.


	21. Rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> companion to the Psychological Domination chapter, and dear god I hope this makes sense to someone besides me *bigsweats*

He trusts Dalton for this. Dalton needs every part of him, he's said so. His voice, his charm, and now his body and spirit. There's no reason to complain; he's given himself over to this man from the first promise he'd help change everything. 

He lies limp on the bed, not passive but attentive, as Dalton stands over him with skin illuminated by candlelight. His eyes glow more otherworldly than usual. 

"Just perfect," Dalton whispers and lays a palm on MacKenzie's bare chest. Skin contact was important for this to work, he'd insisted. Anyone else and MacKenzie would be worried about something sharp and painful going into his chest and then it's lights out, but not this man. Younger in age but older in wisdom.

Dalton's eyes close but his own remain open; not that he's been instructed on it but something inside tells him even moving just a little will break whatever mysterious spell is happening. He watches the young man slowly breathe in and out, like as always done when Dalton is meditating or otherwise just intensely concentrating. The candlelight around him shimmers, flickers...

And that's when MacKenzie starts to feel the tugging sensation. It's not in his head or chest or stomach, but- something right in the very center of his being that Dalton has talked about so often, where all those melodies and words come from. What makes him so magical and special and important and all those other praising adjectives that have been heaped on him.

MacKenzie can't even shudder a breath, and yet he doesn't feel the need to breathe in this moment. He's protected in the space Dalton has made for him and watches as the glow around the young man's body brightens from gold to white.

No way he's hallucinating this-

Then MacKenzie feels something like a kick in his chest and has to bite his lip to stifle any bucking, but Dalton only softly smiles in whatever haze he's concentrated himself into. "Almost there..."

He never expects Dalton to lean over with lips gently touching to his own like a lover's, but that's exactly what happens. He's been touched before with gentle pets to his hair or arms, but never anything this intimate. _Stay still, stay still,_ he concentrates as neither lips or tongue move, but a surprisingly cool flow of breath. He has to stay under control like he's been taught to properly channel his energy...

And then Dalton finally sighs and pulls away, the tugging and kicking sensations leaving as well. It's then MacKenzie allows himself to go passively limp. How he can feel so exhausted when he barely moved a muscle to work-

When Dalton opens his eyes, they're the same intense ocean green as always. "Did you feel that?" he whispers, and MacKenzie nods, figuring that's close enough to the truth. He felt _something_ all right, even if it's only the touch of those lips that linger.

Dalton comes close again to stroke down his face. This is familiar, comfortable. "We're sharing the same energy now. I knew you were ready for this; you're so good at everything, so important."

If he hadn't completely fallen down the rabbit hole of believing everything Dalton says before, he certainly has now.


	22. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more warning that the death and suicide tags apply here if you need a last chance to back out. Also note that inspiration for this chapter comes from afterandalasia's [Destiny](http://archiveofourown.org/series/101771) series which if you can heed the warnings IS AWESOME GO READ IT OMFG- *ahem*.

There was a young man who'd been regarded as nothing less than a star due to his prowess on the basketball court; every slam dunk was greeted with applause and victory poses with cheers of his name. That was his plan for life, to have people know his name for his skills; if he couldn't play he might as well just not breathe.

But reality and dreams don't always see eye-to-eye, and after several bouts of pain and dizziness he was diagnosed with a viral infection. The bright and welcoming halls of his high school were replaced with the sterile cream walls of a hospital ward, and workouts replaced by tests and surgeries and an endless stream of medication and donated blood.

Despite all the doctors' efforts his lungs weakened, quickly followed by his heart, and partway through the medically-induced coma in the ventilator that had become his home, he was only vaguely aware of a long and continuous beep that gradually faded away. Just as as he thought that someone should really turn off that alarm he wasn't aware of any sound anymore.

A soft blue and golden light took shape in front of him, male or female he couldn't tell, but it was all the same comforting and trustworthy. Then came a warmth around his body like being wrapped in the familiar blankets of home, which was a nice change of pace from the cold hospital beds, and he was aware of sound again.

It was music, light and beautiful, and seemed to be coming from right within him even though music hadn't really been his things, but hey, he wasn't going to complain if it meant he could be pain-free. Then the applause and calls of his name that he'd almost forgotten what they'd sounded like were ringing in his ears once more. In this dazzling glow of light he was a star again, maybe in a different way than he'd intended but his soul was grateful for.

Reality and dreams may not always agree, but when one's consciousness had crossed the reality line, dreams could do all they wanted for the kindest of souls.

***

Sometime later in another state over, there was an even younger man who was also about to cross the reality line. Through no fault of his own his mind had been plagued by demons and darkness, and for every agonizing year he'd suffered the voices that hissed in his head told him the same things. He was nobody, he'd never amount to anything important, nobody cared about him and never would. _Nobody nobody nobody._

All he wanted was for the voices to stop and leave him alone, and one desperate night he figured alternate handfuls of his medication with long pulls from a bottle of vodka would do the trick at last. It tasted awful but he kept going until he passed out along the bathroom tiles, hitting his head on the sink on the way down. Despite his yell of reaction he didn't even register the hurt, only the monsters inside him finally shutting up. His grips on loosened on the bottles and his eyes closed, his last conscious sight being the medication label that spelled the name of a nobody.

They say the afterlife frowns upon the suicide and punishes them for perceived selfishness, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Just like with another young man who had meant no harm and only wanted to do good things, a golden-blue light shimmered before this unfortunate soul and regarded him with comfort and love. He soon felt the warm embrace of a glow and the pain lifting from his body. If it was possible, he could have cried.

A dream began to weave before his eyes, one he never could've imagined and one reality and the harsh voices wouldn't have allowed him to have. In this dream he heard dark and beautiful music coming from his fingers and lips to expunge the monsters, music that reached to endless thousands who struggled against the same voices. He was embraced and praised and loved, and every gentle word he believed and made him feel less alone. He had finally amounted to something even if it was only in this dream world. If 'nobody' cared about him, then these were the 'nobodies'.

Dreams deferred by reality were a devastation upon the heart, but the line crossed meant the rules of reality could go out the eternal window. If your heart was pure then you were worthy to see your dream no matter how fanciful or unexpected as a comfort amongst the long and floating darkness.


	23. Bloodplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> companion to the Vampire AU chapter because, yeah, sexy vampires. and even though we're dealing with supernatural creatures I'm still obligated to tell you as per actualodinson's post to Please Don't Try This At Home...

They'd lived on the edge together, died on the edge together, and now it seemed they were _un_ living on the edge together. When you had so much time and near-invincibility on your side, you could afford to be a little reckless, and Dalton and MacKenzie were reckless indeed. They didn't know if others of their kind 'played' like this but they didn't care. What was being a dangerous creature without breaking a few taboos?

Right now Dalton shoved his lover against the dresser, not caring for the knick-knacks that rattled or the fact their reflections were not visible in its mirror, as usual when their powers were at their peak and they didn't have to worry about keeping a 'normal' front amongst the humans. Tonight had been a successful feast and they wouldn't need to hunt for a while, so their energy roared like an inferno.

MacKenzie's eyes flashed silver behind his lenses. He hadn't needed the glasses since his turning but kept them on for force of habit and appearance's sake, and nothing to do with how Dalton thought they were sexy, not at all. "Someone's eager," he purred and stretched his arms above his head.

"You bet." Dalton forcefully yanked down an arm and pulled it out of the sleeve to expose its bare length. The familiar sigh of permission was the only sound he needed before making the tips of his fangs pierce that soft inner elbow.

Their blood was much darker than human blood, and on one experimental taste definitely not as sweet, but still flowed at the same paces depending where cuts were made. They knew as they long as they avoided the heart or neck their actions wouldn't be fatal and still thrilling. MacKenzie's stuttered breaths were low and lovely as they watched the thin trickles down his pale skin.

"Beautiful..." Before the flow reached his lover's wrist, Dalton stopped it with a fingertip and began painting lazy swirls and patterns up the perfect canvas of Mack's arm, keeping his watch on that lovely face to see the progress of his pleasure. He knew it was good when MacKenzie's eyes fluttered like rapid wings and he couldn't stop licking at his lips.

Soon MacKenzie's arm was a slathered crime-scene mess, like he'd been attacked by the very creature making love to him now. But of course that would never be the case. He took a deep breath and shuddered as he touched the design.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Dalton whispered as he cradled his lover's arm, then hovered his mouth over the elbow for the healing venom to drip from his fangs and seal the punctures. There was a hissing sound as usual like extinguishing a fire and MacKenzie held to Dalton's shoulder to stay steady.

"Mmm..." Dalton kissed down the sweet line of the other creature's cheekbone and pulled his embrace close. "Didn't hurt, my love?"

MacKenzie grinned, teeth gleaming brilliantly as always. "I don't have to worry about anything hurting," he said, just as beautiful as if he'd declared love. He kissed Dalton's upper lip and moved to slowly lower himself to the floor. "My turn."

Dalton smiled indulgently and ruffled his lover's hair as he felt his belt being undone. One of the few things he missed about waking life was getting that burst of pleasure, well, _there_ when MacKenzie's mouth worked its magic, but a few sacrifices were worth getting to live as long as you wanted. And besides, this way of playing was good enough to be a next best thing.

Once his legs were bared, the cool sensation of MacKenzie's hands running over skin tingled through him as ever and he rolled his head back with a sigh. The first physical compliment Mack ever paid to him was about his legs and his worship showed no signs of slowing down.

Then the familiar double-needle shock right into his thigh, MacKenzie's bite going down with barely any mercy, and the burst of sensation striking dead-center in his mind was enough to make him cry out. He didn't have to worry about passing out when the blood started to flow; to him, being dizzy was ecstasy. Hands smoothed around again to make a similar slick mess in the most beautiful color besides the black of night.


	24. Mirrors (narcissism)

Dalton gave his eyeliner a final touch of a dramatic swoop and stepped away from the mirror to give himself a look over.

Turn left, turn right. Frown. Something wasn't looking right. He grabbed the top of the mirror and swiveled it back and forth on its hinges.

"Aha," he said when the reflected image looked a lot better. The lighting in here was just crap at some angles.

Another turn left and right, and even a playful model pout. Hell yeah, he was gonna knock 'em dead tonight looking like this. Dalton could always count on feeling on top of the world when he felt he looked good. Meant the crowd would feed off his energy and the reaction would be glorious. 

Dalton half-closed his eyes to look at the full expanse of his liner and slowly ran his tongue around the outline of his lips. If he had a dollar for every fangirl and even a few of the fanboys who creamed themselves over his eyes and mouth- well, he couldn't blame them right now. Total fucking rock star. 

He winked and pointed a finger gun at his reflection. "Hey, hot stuff, what're you doin' after the show?"

OK, he had to laugh at himself for that one. Damn, he could be weird.

Upon looking back up, Dalton could see his reflection red-faced, the shade that popped up when he was turned on or embarrassed. 

Not that he could actually decide which one he was right now.

He laid a palm on the glass to ground himself- was only cool glass he was touching, not an identical hand no matter what the reflection was telling him. He wasn't _that_ far gone.

Still not helping his face be not-red.

It was a subconscious movement, his tongue caressing his lips again with a lover's care while hooded eyes gazed. Every soft and careful line of his face was looking back, down to the paler parts of his skin not affected by a blush of- desire?

Dalton quickly turned away from the reflection and held to his chest like his panicking heart was going to burst right out. Had to get a grip on himself here. There was a big difference between having confidence and being straight up in love with yourself. It wasn't like he'd give that mirror a kiss and actually feel a soft mouth like his that knew exactly what he'd like or hear his breaths duplicated-

Oh shit. Dalton stumbled away from the mirror, ignoring both his flushed face and that sudden kick of sensation below the belt. He was just punchy and his mind wandering, that was all. "I gotta get to sleep earlier," he muttered and felt for the light switch as he left the room.

But not before taking another look over his shoulder and seeing his reflected lips parted as if begging for a kiss.


	25. Evil!characters AU (criminal activity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> companion piece to chapter 16, which was originally saddled with this title but I switched that to Knifeplay so as not to mush together so many available prompts when I'm close to the end on this. That and I wanted to play around with gangsta!Dalton some more ;)

Dalton's attention is 95% focused on his beautiful lover swaying somewhat haphazardly on the dance floor, and the other five percent out the corner of his eye waiting for his contact. There are only two things he lies to MacKenzie about: that he never does any deals when they're on a date, and that the young man is a more than competent dancer. Harmless little white lies. If he can put some extra cash in his pocket to keep up all their expenses and buy his hubby nice things, why waste an opportunity? And as for how Mack can dance, well, the way he moves when he's off his feet more than makes up for it.

The shadow flickers in Dalton's eyesight and his contact perches on the edge of a velvet seat. Of course he'd make sure this club would have the best furnishings, he only owns about half the place.

"You got it?" comes the whisper.

With fluid motions and still keeping an eye on MacKenzie, Dalton sips from his glass of whiskey and reaches into his jacket pocket for the painted tin. It's even been expertly shrink-wrapped to look brand-new, and that no one would suspect it's filled with a livelier pick-me-up than some simple mints.

"Worth 10K easy."

"Better not be no 10K of icing sugar," his contact grumbles but passes the wad of bills over anyway. Quick as a wink and he's gone just like that.

Dalton doesn't know and doesn't care; he doesn't sample anything harder than the pills. Shit like that can put you six feet under if you're not careful, and who'd be there to watch over his babydoll?

Yes, everything he does is for MacKenzie, twisted as that sounds. He'd already been pretty good at dealing when he first plucked the little cutie from his safe and boring suburbs-and-barista life (without having to ask twice- whatever Dalton Louis Rapattoni wants, Dalton Louis Rapattoni gets), but he got more motivation to live the high life he knew he was destined for.

He loves MacKenzie, but money still makes the world go round.

It's not been an easy ride, what with enduring bruises and blood spills and close calls with cops who don't want to look the other way, but Dalton's been grateful his lover has stuck by him. He'd even given the young man the option to run after the first witnessed brawl and Mack was tending to his wounds.

"This is the life I live, babydoll," he'd whispered over a split bottom lip. "I won't blame you if you wanna cut out now, but if you're staying, you're staying. I need somebody to have my back when the rest of the world's tryin' to put a knife in it."

So MacKenzie had stayed. And even though he's learned some things himself about dealing and can put up a fist when he has to, he's much more content with being Dalton's lover- his arm candy, his playmate, his dress-up doll, his sugar baby, his one weakness, his loyal hubby. He couldn't ask for a better sweetheart.

Right now he watches Mack run a hand over his dance-wild hair and strut towards him, his best shoes making soft click noises on the hard dance floor. Dalton sees his skin shine under the lights with the second-best possible sweat he could work up and licks his lips in desire.

MacKenzie openly straddles his hips right there on the seat, and Dalton sees another glint under the light from his favorite ring he's given, a silver band embedded with Mack's birthstone. It's the closest thing he can give to a wedding ring for now. One of these days he figures if he ever finds himself in a tight spot and wants to make sure that Mack will have all the property and money he's entitled to, they can pop into a courthouse somewhere and make it official. But not now. He's on top of the world.

"Having fun, babe?" Dalton empties his glass and cups his lover's hips.

"Uh huh." MacKenzie snuggles closer and kisses the crook of his neck with a murmured, "But I wanna go home and play soon."

Mmm, the first-best possible sweat. Dalton's hands roam and squeeze in gentle possessiveness, not that anybody dares trying to hit on his lover anymore. "Y'gonna show me what a bad boy I am?"

"Best bad boy," he feels Mack's lips smirk against his neck. "Can we have a red?"

One of the few substances Dalton deals that he knows he can safely use as well. MacKenzie only asks for one every few months, and the other man had put two and two together that he asked before certain times they 'played'. A wide smile crosses his face as he knows Mack is going to keep him up all night and leave him shaking and begging for more.

He fills his glass again and sets it in MacKenzie's hands before searching in his jacket for the right bottle. Only a few pills in there, barely the size of red M&Ms, but contain just the right wallop they need. "Open wide," he murmurs and watches Mack sweetly obey as his lips part and oh-so-tempting tongue glides into view.

The ritual is always the same, one pill on MacKenzie's tongue, then his, then sharing long drinks from the glass while watching with each other with soft and ragged breaths as their eyes change, color darkening and pupils shrinking ever so slightly. While he still has adequate function to move due to his quickening heart, Dalton makes sure to stand them up and keep his embrace close so they can shuffle over to the driver and ask to be taken home.

It's time for Mack to show one of the most powerful people around just how good he is off his feet.


	26. Haunted locations (carnival)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspiration from [the Top 5 Ford segment](http://stephaniemccomb.tumblr.com/post/141844470111/fashion-intro-in-case-u-missed-it) and Poets of the Fall's [Carnival of Rust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKk1u5RMTn4). Apologies in advance this be more 'mysterious' than 'dark' :p

Every year the tent seems to mysteriously appear overnight, with no sign or any sound to indicate where it may have come from. Even though the canvas is faded with some patches and has seen better days, it still doesn't deter the people drawn in as if by a spell to the show that lurks within. It is a show that makes kabuki colorless, makes soap opera plots feasible, makes fairy tales an everyday occurrence.

Into the spotlight where a microphone from decades ago gleams as polished and brand-new as if it had been made yesterday, the ringmaster steps from the shadows. His golden jacket glitters across his broad shoulders and under the lights like if he wears all the stars in the sky as he goes into his spiel. The mike seems almost like a formality as his high tenor voice rings and echoes throughout the big top to promise feats of wonder not seen anywhere else and his arms sweep outwards to begin the show.

The animal tamer who calls herself La'Puma is a sight to behold. She also glitters under the lights from the crown of her mountainous hair to the bottom of her curvaceous figure wrapped in black silk. She is like a smiling statue, steady and unfearing in the face of any creature that crosses her path. The smile she has when a flock of golden birds alight on her arms after a choreographed and music-filled dance in the air is the same as when a lion bows before her. La'Puma never needs a whip or hoop of fire unlike other tamers, compassion and reverence is her game and the animals recognize her as their queen.

The magician, Mr. Nobody, doesn't wear a tuxedo like others, feeling much more comfortable in leather and denim. He does keep a top hat around if only to tap it and cause an explosion of black rose petals, and a cape to swoop over an audience volunteer to make them disappear. He can set a person's most prized possession on fire and put out the flames with his tongue with damage to neither him or the treasure, or cut them in half length ways and make the pieces run towards each other to come back together in a glorious display of smoke, and cackle with glee at every accomplishment as if unexpected. He knows how to keep the crowd in awe with merely a wave of a fingerless gloved-hand.

People laugh at first when they see the strongman Mac, as he appears much too slim and delicate to be of any wonder. But that laughter ceases soon as he flexes his arms to throw weights into the air as easily as if they were balloons. The laughter may even turn to gasps as he catches the weights on his shoulders or down the length of his arms with nary a grunt or word of complaint. The gasps can even turn to applause if he borrows one of La'Puma's animals or the pretty magician to balance upon him and he strides or cycles around the span of the big top, his smile infectious. Even a strong man can hide in someone so small.

The acrobat, Sonik Siren, may be the most mysterious of them all and working under some otherworldly magic as well. All she needs to do is sing a wordless but rapturous melody in her highest of notes, and visible sound waves of silver emanate from her to attach to the bars. Whereas other acrobats may hang from silk, she holds onto the waves to dance and spin and weave her body about like she is made of fluid. The audience dares not even breathe as if any noises they make will break her protective waves and send her plummeting, but Sonik knows no fear, only how to dance and be free.


	27. Betrayal [roleplay scenario]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't know if I was going to do this prompt at first, but then [those pictures](https://www.instagram.com/p/BMPUPF7hhG9/) [with the Purge masks](http://daltonrapattonidaily.tumblr.com/post/152567227620/inspired-attempt-tour-mg-merriam-ks-october) happened and ~thoughts occurred, as they do...so yeah, it's Dalton in the mask and the knife is fake and he and Mack are just playing. We cool? Cool.

They were so beautiful when they shivered in fear, and this one, with dark hair plastered to pale skin and eyes wide as a killing moon under his glasses, had to be the most beautiful yet. He ran a skilled finger along the knife's blade and moved the tip closer to the shivering man's throat.

Big sopping tears flowed in a silver river. "Please...don't...just take the money and go, I won't tell anybody."

Aww, they were so cute when they begged. "Now why would I do that, _Lovely?_ " he hissed in fake tenderness. "I let you go, then I have to start letting everyone go, and that's just not my style." He stepped closer so the space between them was occupied by the knife and could get a better view through his mask of Lovely's shapely and shaking form.

Then Lovely began audibly sobbing, head bowed in acceptance of fate. Suddenly it seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful specimen of a victim- and the tightening sensation in his pants agreed. He lowered the blade and touched a finger under Lovely's chin to lift his gaze. Pretty eyes...

"Maybe there's _one_ thing you can do for me to let you go."

"H-huh?" the young man sniffed.

He licked his lips even if it couldn't be seen under the mask. "You like the men, don't you?" Lovely visibly balked. "Oh, don't play coy with me, I saw all the pictures of that little emo-looking blond in the living room."

"Dalton..." the young man whispered like a prayer to a savior who wasn't coming.

He cackled, and even under the mask it was a terrifying sound. "Dalton, huh? Tell me something, sweetheart. Does he kiss you?"

Lovely kept on shivering as he bit his lip like subconsciously protecting his mouth. Nope, that wasn't going to do.

He raised the knife again to be right in front of the young man's face. "I asked you a question," his voice went low and taunting as he continued, "does Dalton kiss you? Does he touch you? Do you share a bed at night? Does he make you feel like you can fly and he hangs the sun just for you every morning?"

Lovely's lip quivered for another moment before resolve broke into a fresh bout of sobbing. "Yes..." So vulnerable, so lost and sweet.

He teasingly tickled under the young man's chin like coaxing an animal. "Well, maybe I just need a little bit of that sugar to put me in a better mood and I could let you go, hmm?"

Lovely shook his head. Of course he would. "I don't...I'm not doing that to Dalton..."

He snorted and brandished the knife barely an inch from Lovely's nose. "So you'd rather he come home and find you in a big red mess on the floor and make him sad? That doesn't sound like a very caring boyfriend."

Dark eyes flashed in fear, that oh so delicious fear. The young man didn't have a choice anymore and they both knew it.

He tilted his mask to the side to expose his mouth that he licked again in predatory hunger. "No one has to know..." He stretched out his arm to drop the knife and give the young man a false sense of security as it hit the floor with a muted clunk. "It's between you and me, Lovely."

The salt of tears was bitter, but he liked it that way, and it still didn't distract from the softness of thin yet delectable lips, especially when their owner was literally kissing like his life depended on it. Every few seconds there was another shudder of a sob of guilt that could've been heart-wrenching if he had any conscience left and not just a monster who needed a mask. Keeping the weak and helpless under his power, that's what he got off on just as much as the satisfaction of the hunt.

Slowly as sampling a meal, he flicked his tongue at the corners of Lovely's eyes to taste his beautiful fear, and when the shudders became softer he knew he'd won.


	28. Darkness

Fans loved calling MacKenzie their sunshine, and he had no problem with that, he liked making people happy and sunlight was warm and gentle and needed on this earth of course.

But the secret he'd never tell was those moments where he'd live for the darkest ink black of skies, maybe highlighted by just a small silver trace of the moon. Much less never tell _why_ he enjoyed it so much.

He could give the simple artist's explanation of finding inspiration during nighttime, but that was only _a_ truth and not _the_ truth.

As a child MacKenzie had been afraid of the dark like many children are, but somewhere along the way he learned to embrace the mystery of shadows, not to lose himself in them but to dance with them in silent proclamation that he was no longer afraid.

Once one had been close to the edge of being lost in darkness and pulled back by miracle of miracles, they could say they earned the right to dance and tease. To almost be lost was to truly find yourself.


	29. Physical injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel piece to chapters 16 and 25 and expands upon a moment referred to in the latter chapter, so I can play with gangsta!Dalton one more time :p

Rust-dark spots of blood still stained the cuffs of MacKenzie's shirt. And it had to be one of the shirts in the pile of expensive clothes Dalton had given him after the first time he'd spent the night ("You look about a size smaller than me; these are just cluttering my closet," was the explanation with his usual sly smile). Blood stained his fingertips as well while he slowly cleaned and tended to Dalton's cut and battered face, and thought about everything the young man had just told him.

On the first date he'd informed MacKenzie all his money- everything to afford the sleek car, stylish suits, five-star restaurant reservations- came from selling merchandise for various high-end companies, mainly electronics and jewelry. "Just think of me as a higher class of traveling salesman, babydoll," he said before buying a single red rose from a street vendor and tucking it in the buttonhole of what was then Mack's best shirt.

And Mack had believed him, even when he saw Dalton's elaborate flat, when Dalton would sometimes have to take a call in the middle of a date and there'd be a hushed whisper of an argument with whoever was on the other end, when he was spoiled with more extravagant gifts. Dalton had to be making all this legally, right?

Wrong.

With labored breathing and the occasional wince, Dalton explained he'd been in "the life" for a few years now, first in a gang before breaking out on his own. Gadgets and jewels were just the tip of the iceberg, there was also drugs, property, insider trading tips- and the two guys that had just ambushed them were people that didn't like their territory being honed in on.

MacKenzie had never been so frightened in his life, thinking somebody had a knife or gun, but it was only fisticuffs. Not that it made things any less harrowing when Dalton was shielding him and taking the brunt of the abuse. Every blow with a fist was like a hit to his own heart.

And now the young man's sea-green eyes showed a vulnerability MacKenzie hadn't seen before as he'd been given the choice: stay or go. Stay and possibly be in danger for the rest of his life, or go and walk away from the most intense passion he'd ever known.

It wasn't just the expensive presents, although Mack certainly wasn't complaining after growing up having to pinch pennies. Dalton also spoiled him with physical affection, with worshipful words and reverent gazes, like _he_ was actually the lucky one. And MacKenzie had been the happiest and cherished he felt in ages.

But now...

"You hate me for hiding this, don't you?" Dalton's breath was shallow and he winced as he fully sat upright.

"Can't say I'm a hundred percent thrilled." MacKenzie capped the cream jar and unwrapped a bandage for under the young man's jawline.

Dalton kept still even if he looked like he wanted to wince again, sucking up the pain as a subconscious punishment. "I thought I could keep ya protected long enough, I guess. Not all that smart...but I'm just a fool in love." He gave his winning smile, and even with a cut lip and hollow eyes and patched up face, it was charming. Dammit. Mack didn't even register at the moment that Dalton had employed the 'love' word.

"It's not gonna be all sunshine and roses if you stay, Mack. You'll hafta learn about how I deal so y'don't get ripped off...I'll get you in a self-defense course 'case I'm not always there to protect you-" Another wince and Dalton put a hand to his rib cage, even if he'd been insisting a few minutes ago that it didn't hurt.

"And what would we be getting out of this?" MacKenzie's tone was flat even while he carded his fingers through Dalton's wild hair.

Dalton shut his eyes under the smooth touches. "You get the life you deserve an' I get the love I deserve," he murmured soft as a lullaby.

Love, there was that word again. Somewhere in the midst of flirting with and wooing a nobody little barista this young man who lived like he wasn't afraid of anything had somehow found a person who gave him a bigger smile than all the extravagances he owned. MacKenzie had a feeling someone like that didn't come along every day.

Looked like they weren't all that different.

He raised the hand with battered knuckles to his lips.


	30. Last kiss/last time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prequel to the vampire!AUs in chapters 3 and 23. Bless everybody who read through this challenge even if my attempts at 'dark' were rather lackadaisical at times :p

Dalton was awoken from his light sleep to rustles beside him on the mattress, and rolled over to see MacKenzie sitting up and getting back into his clothes. His whimper must have been audible, because MacKenzie just said, "You better get dressed too, they'll be here soon."

Dalton only made the moves to sit up and clutch the sheets closer to his bared skin. One of these days he knew the scent of what they'd just shared would no longer linger on the material, and he also knew that would be the saddest day of his...

Well, he wouldn't exactly be able to call it _life._

Mack turned around, and instead of being cranky at his boyfriend for dawdling he leaned close for a gentle hug. Dalton took another inhale of the scents of sweat and passion and whimpered again.

"I know, babe, I know," MacKenzie whispered and stroked his hair.

"Really gonna miss this part..."

"'Least we can still kiss and touch, Dalt. We'll find our way around it, even if we gotta use toys or something."

Even through his sorrow at knowledge of the inevitable, Dalton felt himself smirk at that. "Always the practical one."

"You darn right," Mack said in all tenderness and kissed his temple. "You remember why we're doing this, right?"

"So we can live forever," the young man recited in a bland rote even if the prospect was anything but.

"Uh huh. I won't have to worry about my heart giving out again, and you'll feel so much stronger with all the demons out of your head-"

"To trade for being a demon of the night." Dalton pulled his discarded clothes towards himself but made no move to put them on just yet.

MacKenzie chuckled. "It's not like that, Dalt, they've been telling me. We can still be in the sunlight long as we're careful, and we don't have to kill anyone when we feed."

Dalton turned his arms for his wrists to face outwards, pale blue veins running under even paler skin with faded scars. He'd gotten used to the sight of blood enough it never fazed him anymore, but save for a few fisticuffs that resulted in injured noses he hadn't intentionally made anyone else bleed. Now that was going to be the way they survived.

"And we'll still be able to sing?"

"Why not? Stick around long enough for a few hit singles, drop underground when people start getting suspicious of why we're not aging, pop back up a few years later and hypnotize the public with a new image. We could literally make history."

Well, he had wanted to change people with his music.

Dalton lazily shrugged back into his pants and burrowed back into his lover's embrace. "At least we're doing this together. Forever wouldn't be worth it without you."

MacKenzie's only answer was the familiar smooth and loving touch upon his lips, and Dalton was only a little surprised to feel the kiss stained with silent tears.


End file.
